Falling Rain and Storm Patterns
by Spylace
Summary: Starscream needs a bath, Soundwave helps. Another reason why Soundwave is superior.


**Title:** Falling Rain and Storm Patterns

**Summary:** Starscream needs a bath, Soundwave helps. Another reason why Soundwave is superior.

**Pairing: **Soundwave/Starscream

**Rating:** **T**

**Timeline/Continuity:** Movie-verse, sometime after 2k7

**A.N.: **Request by a friend. Exact specifications were, "...something with our favorite F-22 Raptor in it, nothing to risqué, I don't care if it has a pairing as long as Starscream lands on the bottom." I'm not sure this qualifies at all but eh... I tried! But Starscream's relationships are impossible! Not to mention most of the love interests in the movie-verse are dead or otherwise unmentioned!

And without further ado, enjoy the fic ;)

-x-

"Don't..." Starscream hissed as a glob of mud landed on his pede with a squelch. "...ask..."

"Request: acknowledged" Soundwave droned as he welcomed the seeker back into their temporary hideout. Grumbling the Decepticon Air Commander scanned the perimeters before announcing them clear. He then began to methodically clean himself in a way Soundwave had seen the feathered organics of this planet do. He paused; his vents exhuming hot air, letting the rain water wash away the accumulated dirt and stone fragments from the inner wiring and delicate circuitry. Soundwave caught images of a silver sports car, arm blades, pain, crashing, mud, hysteric laughing, and explosions. He cut himself off, receiving a sardonic look from the seeker who knew that Soundwave was trying to read him and had _helpfully_ supplied him with the images.

The monotonous mech did not react and Starscream resumed his efforts. Though keeping watch to prevent one of what few Decepticon warriors remaining from getting ambushed by Autobots or their human allies, the Communications Officer could not help but wince from behind his facemask when he heard the heavy talons screech against the metal plating. The seeker crouched, bending his knees so that he would not overbalance and fall on his back. Not entirely used to his bipedal form since he spent most of his time scouting as a jet. The triangular body seemed alien to Soundwave's optics; he had always preferred the sharp lines the flier possessed back on Cybertron.

The seeker's mind brushed up against his again though inadvertently or on purpose he could not discern. There were flashes of blue, a truly magnificent color in a seeker's optics since it never seemed to stay the same hue. Currently the Air Commander's favorite was the color of deep space and the metallic sheen of a trinemate left on their home planet. Melancholy bled through in tendrils of black and violet and the stoic mech couldn't help but feel strings of irritation—jealousy.

Laboriously, the second-in-command dug rocks and metal shrapnel out of his knee joints, flexing them to test their worthiness. Grousing, he began to pick at his left knee again, trying to hold his wings in a way that they would aid him in his endeavor. Wordlessly, Soundwave held one wing up as a support. Starscream froze, his thrusters humming to life before dying. Normally, the flier would have thrown a tantrum about keeping respectable distances from one another. But in the current state, through the rain, the mud, and the furry organics caught between his pedes, the seeker grudgingly accepted the assistance.

It tickled him almost, the sudden shaft of red flaring through Starscream's mind.

Not that he would admit it, no

The seeker's mind was almost a tumultuous place, partly because Starscream's processor's ran on speed unheard of in their kind. And partly because a typical flier's mind was prone to flight much like their physical manifestations, making them impudent and impulsive, and perhaps in Starscream's case—a tad suicidal. It was like a storm, only more colorful, mesmerizing and beautiful in its chaotic way.

"Grab the other wing" muttered a scratchy voice and Soundwave had to process it for a moment before he caught up. Knowing how much it hurt the seeker's pride for ask for help—outside his trine no less—the Communications Officer pressed a hand against the other wing, ignoring the shiver and trying not to read the ribbon of lavender-grey that looped around his CPU. "No one," Starscream ground out dangerously, "will know of this." Soundwave did not bother replying, but his optics flickered in mute amusement.

The seeker began to work on his pedes. Unlike the blocky shape of most mechs', the seeker's pedes had been split into narrow sections much like toes. Better for emergency landing in miscellaneous locations but debilitating if grounded for too long—the last time Starscream had tangled with the Autobots, the flier had to walk all the way to base and the resulting stay in the repair bay had not been pretty. The Air Commander had to have several components of his pedes completely replaced. With the lack of proper supplies, the seeker had limped around the repair bay and spent time sunning himself in his alternative form until self-repairs had kicked in long enough to glue the toes together.

It was really times like those the Decepticon forces realized how valuable Starscream was.

Another screech disrupted his train of thought. The soft surface of the planet had collectively caked beneath the seeker's pedes. Starscream let out a dry exclamation of disgust when he found a small organic stuck on his claw. Soundwave moved his hands, trying to find a better grip. His fingers edged against the vents and closed around the wing flap. Starscream let out another exclamation altogether and froze; only the wings and the turbines vibrating as the storm cast another shade of dark blue to the winds. The normally smooth flow of Soundwave's crimson optics edged into saffron as Starscream threw him a dirty look. The seeker shrieked, his talons scratching carelessly against his olive-and-gray armor.

Though the Communications Officer was not known for his strength in battle, with the combination of the flier's exhaustion and his awkward frame working in his favor, Soundwave managed to subdue the raptor onto the ground. The third-in-command observed in distaste as mud again got into Starscream's chest armor and his frontal joints. Deciding that rain and Starscream's talons were detrimental to the mech's hygene, Soundwave dragged the seeker to the repair bay and began to personally clean him.

Another color, white—

—So Starscream had been thinking of him.

Amusement and he let it freely flutter against Starscream's processors.

The seeker batted his hands away with a scowl and whined,

"But you hate it when the repair bay gets messy." He snapped at the nozzle which was threatening to blash him with air. "cut that out."

"Reasoning: Starscream needs attention. Conclusion: _I_ will provide necessary attention."

"Necessary my aft..." The flier sneered, "You're going to make me clean up afterwards aren't you? You obsessive..."

A hand on his wing and he froze. As heavily armored as the wing was, it needed to maintain sensitivity to assess flight conditions. As it was, the part that Soundwave was currently caressing was probably the most sensitive part on his entire wing. Starscream clicked his mandibles nervously, but not in rejection.

"Starscream's logic: correct."

He began to wash the seeker, occasionally asking him to move so he could rub at a particularly stubborn spot. Starscream had gotten most of the mud out when he first began to go over his exoskeleton with his claws. It was a simple enough exercise. The flier in question stayed quiet, though his vents let out gusts of hot air every now and then as though he was planning to bolt. He shuddered once Soundwave began to touch the comparably delicate pedes. He noticed with mild disproval that the hind toe—the one that held up the most of the seeker's weight when standing still—had gotten damaged again, one of them practically torn off. He was gentle as he closed off the leaking lines and put a temporary patch in place. It occurred to him later that the seeker might actually be ticklish, it bore watching. It wasn't a professional job, but eventually Starscream became presentable again.

Before the seeker could get up however the Decepticon third-in-command grabbed his wing again—at this point Starscream thought he had some sort of a wing fetish—and touched his neck where his vocal processor had never been properly repaired. At the questioning look in the other's optics, Soundwave shrugged—in his own way—and said dryly,

":Missed a spot."

"Oh?" Starscream said archly, tone challenging.

Beginnings of a smile forming behind his mask, Soundwave brought their foreheads together. Starscream pushed slightly before leaning back, wincing when he realized one of his hind toes were actually missing. But he recovered gracefully, a ripple of saffron—of all the colors to represent Soundwave by—disappearing into the blue maelstrom like a fish into the sea. 'I expect better from you than that.' Starscream's thrusters hummed beckoningly. Soundwave's face mask slid away and with his amused exasperation transferring onto the reluctant kiss, he closed their mouths together. Starscream sighed into the Communications Officer's mouth, his mind closed now, if only because there were too many colors, the winds distinctly golden.

Soundwave's fingers began to rub at the edge of Starscream's cheeks, at the foreign angle that had not been there before, into a silver sheen. He pulled away, the seeker like an organic flier, lightly butting his head against his narrow chin. Soundwave nuzzled him as best their forms would allow and said smugly,

"Soundwave superior."


End file.
